italics
by songwithoutreason
Summary: Death and loss are no strangers to ninjas. But they deal with it another matter. sasunaru first oneshot.


Alrighty! My first attempt at a oneshot.

Just to help understand the story, where it basically repeats a paragraph, it does that for a reason… pay attention to the changes.

And I also have no idea why the fic is called _italics._

Well please enjoy and maybe drop a review ;) Thanks and much appreciated

Criticism accepted.

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_Italics_

"Do you remember this place forty years ago?" I whispered atop of the Hokage monuments. The _dying _sun glanced off the Hokage tower and flitted off the short buildings in the village of Konoha.

"This is where we call home. Everyone was here, Tsunade, Sakura, Kakashi-sensei, Iruka-sensei, the rookie nine, team Gai, Sai, Yamato-taichou… and you too teme, do you remember?"

'Of course I do dobe.' I would hear you saying, you called me that like it was my name.

I pout.

You laugh.

How could either of us forget? It was the day I was named Rukudaime Hokage, and appointed you (in private of course) as the ANBU captain.

The ceremony was held on the roof of the Hokage tower, where old sarutobi-jii's funeral was held.

Konohamaru cried, as he was expected.

But his eyes hardened, and gradually he begun to tell people that he matured, and his grandfather was soon forgotten, but never by him.

Every year, that little brat would perform the sexy-no-jutsu in front of the monument beside the training grounds and asks the same question:

"Am I strong enough now?"

Strength was the thing that protected your loved ones, I gathered at that point. I wasn't strong enough to bring you back then, so I needed to get stronger.

But people _died_ protecting me and the village we love.

Asuma was a more than capable jounin, Shikamaru the same, Ino and Chouji full fledged chuunins.

Kurenai was a ninja. Rule number 26: Never display emotions or feelings, no matter the situation.

Trained and taught, ninja were still human; one could not help but give into the heart rendering pain of loss and emptiness when the father of their child _died_.

Temari asked me about the stench of smoke on Shikamaru's clothes one day, I told her it was the one day he was allowed a smoke… we called it-

Commemoration.

It wasn't long after, that the hermit fell into the hands of the Akatsuki. Actually, he dug himself a hole and buried himself alive.

You would snort and mutter a usuratonkachi.

And I ignore your jeer at my metaphor.

To be frank, Tsunade always expected the mission to be a success, technically. But as a human, she never considered anything successful unless things returned to how they were, but Jiraiya the (insert Tsunade's language) useless ero-sennin, never did return.

She had expected this, and ordered 50 crates, five less than how old they were that year. Or maybe it was to celebrate being alive when Jiraiya did come back; it was a promise wasn't it?

The fifty crates disappeared quickly, no one dared to stop her. Many bottles shattered, the crystalline liquid spilt almost too easily across the floor. But not one tear was spilt.

She never cried about it. She said it never was goodbye. And Tsunade was convinced both her and Jiraiya knew it.

She gave me a small smile at his private funeral. It never reached the crinkles in the corner of her eyes. The muscles in her face were tired. Her eyes displayed an inner turmoil of relinquish and general emptiness of loss. But a flicker of some kind of happiness was there, like what a child feels the night before Christmas as they lie in bed; anticipation.

You never know what you've got till it's gone she told me. I didn't comprehend.

Oh how could I forget! Gaara and the sand siblings were there to renew the alliance between Konoha and Suna on the day I became Hokage as well.

You scoff, and you wondered why I kept a spare key under the roof tiles, with your memory, you couldn't even remember which tile it was under.

I scowl, still amazed at how you can still conjure so much emotion from me even in my memory.

Oh yes, Gaara. Well this is a good story, rather … erotic, I managed through a blush.

Actually it's disturbing. You panned.

Even though Neji has a fan club to rival yours, Lee's not bad either.

I feel you cringe, I laugh sheepishly.

Either Gaara has a high tolerance for green, or he didn't know. You point out.

No, Gaara did know, he told Neji that Lee needed his best friend more than he himself needed his own boyfriend. Just for that time. I tell you softly.

The namesake of team Gai exerted himself on an S rank mission to the eighth level, the death gate.

It went unspoken that Lee would carry their Gai sensei's body back to Konoha. His own luggage went to Neji and Gai sensei's to Tenten.

Not a word was said as they made the distance between Suna and Konoha in the half a day their overactive sensei challenged them to the first time they set out.

The three had to be hospitalised for muscle strain. The damaged healed over two weeks, but they were out by the third day to attend the proud green beast of Konoha (senior)'s funeral.

None of the remainders of team Gai had spoken a word since the mission. Not to nurses, not even after collapsing just outside the enormous village gates.

Gaara sent an eagle with a message for Neji to the mission room. Iruka sensei flushed crimson and spluttered as he attempted to give the note to Neji.

The Hyuuga read the note and left immediately. No time was wasted and soon the white eyed man was pounding into the proud green beast of Konoha (junior), striking his prostate sending both of them into their climaxes in the most platonic way of friendship and love possible.

Iruka sensei read the note as he picked it up off the beige floor.

'_As ninjas we need to feel that we are alive, sex is what causes our most physical feelings. _Death_ and loss are no strangers to us, but Lee would be withering._

_Gaara.'_

Iruka made to good choices that day; going to the memorial stone, surprising Kakashi. And taking the legacy of the white fang home, dirty, exhausted and still bathing in the after glow of sex.

Still they gave the same small smile; it never reached the crinkles in the corner of their eyes. The muscles in their faces were tired. Their eyes displayed an inner turmoil of relinquish and general emptiness of loss. But a flicker of some kind of happiness was there, like what a child feels the night before Christmas as they lie in bed; anticipation.

I had identified the anticipation, but I could not figure out what the cause was.

Until you passed.

The word _death _is just a word to me now. Like so many other words, like love, and trust. There is no one that I can completely trust left in this world.

Except Konohamaru, as the shichidamie. Everyone passed, the last living sannin, Sakura,

Kakashi and Iruka sensei, everyone. But that is what is expected when you are a sixty years old. The life expectancy of a ninja was barely half what I check in at now, much less a vessel of the kyuubi.

Oh and that last time we did it was kyuubi's fault as well, although I'm not complaining.

But it was the last time I was held in you, feel you around me, then feeling you fill me, a refraction of how we complete each other.

The clash of feverish kissing, taunt bodies and unexpressed love and desire.

You never know what you've got till its gone ay? I asked that time when I looked at your pale visage and your last word rung resoundingly in my head. A simple "ja".

If you were _dying_, how was I meant to 'see you' again?

And then I understood everything.

The small smiles, the lack of tears, the celebrations and the weird ways. Death is not the end.

Really.

Because as I wait for Konohamaru and the little Sarutobi heir, I'm relaxed.

I suppose I have it easy, no struggle like everyone, no rugged breaths. Just me the village and the anticipation.

I felt like the last kid that was picked up from the academy, not that I ever was. But I was hopeful still, watching all the children been led away.

Been the last one left. Then I saw you on the dock.

And I felt like I had finally been led away, holding your hand, depending on you, and you living on me.

"I love you Sasuke."

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"Naruto-nii! We're here!" said a man in a white cape with the kanji symbols for seven on it.

"Sleeping again?" asking the boy, almost man, beside him with scarlet eyes and chocolate hair.

"No, Saru-chan." Konohamaru said.

"Your Naruto-jii-chan has moved on." He continued, taking in the pale skin, the lack of a pulse and the absence of the shift of breathing. He kneeled down beside the still golden haired man he adored.

The boy followed him not a second later. Konohamaru gave him a small smile,

it never reached the crinkles in the corner of his eyes. The muscles in his face were tired. His eyes displayed an inner turmoil of relinquish and general emptiness of loss. But a flicker of some kind of happiness was there, like what a child feels the night before Christmas as he lies in bed;

Anticipation of something good that will happen.

I fluttered my eyes open, felt the familiar chakra in my stomach. I wouldn't be me with out kyuubi.

"Dobe" you mutter in my ear. Your scent engulfs me and your voice captures me the way it always does.

I smile.

_End_

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_For those who didn't understand, because I know it isn't too clear, Naruto died, and moved on, he was talking to the memory of Sasuke before he decided to pass._

_Thank you for putting up with the uneventful-ness and would be very glad if you reviewed hint hint_

_Thank you for reading none the less and I hope you enjoyed it _

_Kawaii Kunoichi_


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